Instinct
by workerbee73
Summary: Suddenly, she knew where she had to go. That same face was calling her back now, back from the abyss. Out of the darkness. K/L NOTE: Spoilers for "Sometimes a Great Notion"


She stumbled into the darkened raptor, still reeking of smoke and ash. It was probably soaked into her clothes. Gods knew if she'd ever be able to forget that smell.

_Breathe in. Breathe out. Focus on something. Stay calm._Kara stared down at her hands as her old gravity training began to kick in. Step one, _control the breath_. Step two, _find a focus point_. Step three, _concentrate on the body's movements-- and shut out everything else_.

The training was standard for all fighter pilots. It was supposed to help counter the effects of extreme gravity shifts. Pulling too many G's at one time could frak with a pilot's coordination, causing oxygen loss and disorientation at best, suffocation and blackout at worst.

The exercises were designed to keep you alert and in control of a deadly machine. To keep you alive.

She continued to stare at the hands in her lap, palms spread open before her. _In. Out. In. Out. _They didn't look any different. They didn't _feel _any different.

_Focus Captain_, she told herself, trying to jar herself back into the present. _Only what's in front of you. Nothing more_.

Gradually, her heart began to slow down, and she felt she was actually starting to absorb the oxygen instead of just scraping it into her lungs. Ridiculous how the ancient memories of a dead woman were keeping her alive right now.

Strapping herself into the raptor's chair, she fired up the engines and adjusted the controls. Her reactions were as automatic as they had always been. Flying had always felt like a first language.

She barked out a bitter laugh. Maybe flying _was_ the first thing she ever did. The first real memory she had.

She remembered soaring through the nebula's clouds, pink and orange and glowing eerily. She remembered knowing just where to turn her ship's heading, just where to go. Where she could find _him_. Almost as if he had been calling her back all along.

Suddenly, she knew where she had to go. That same face was calling her back now, back from the abyss. Out of the darkness.

She set the controls for Colonial One-- she knew he wouldn't be anywhere else. As devastated as he must be, as they all were, he wore his duty like a second skin, and he would never abandon it, especially when so many others must be doing just that.

He was in the President's office, exactly where she thought he'd be. He had his back to her, unaware of her presence. Just looking at his silhouette, she felt relief wash over her in a physical wave. _In. Out. In. Out. _She had made it back to him, just like she did before.

It was ok then. Surely it would be ok now.

"Lee..." she choked out, a flurry of words threatening to bubble up and escape all at once.

He turned as if in a trance. He looked so beautiful, and so ... broken. His longer hair was tousled, and her fingers involuntarily twitched to touch it. _A dead woman's instinct? _Perhaps. But like her training, it felt so godsdamn real.

She shook herself out of the reverie, and for the first time, she noticed that his eyes were red. There was a vacant look there.

Something was wrong. Something more than the devastation of Earth.

On seeing her, his mask snapped back into place. "Oh-- I heard you lost the signal-- you couldn't find the source."

She shrugged, trying to maintain focus.

"Um, yeah."

The words were begging to come out, they were choking her, and she felt like she was beginning to drown. Whatever she was, whatever she had been, she knew that she had to tell him. That face had brought her back to life those long months ago-- a lifetime ago. Perhaps he could do it again.

"Lee, I need to talk. I've got to tell somebody--"

The glazed look washed over his face again, and she instinctively knew something was very wrong. Attempting to lighten the mood (as the other woman had so often done before), she smirked.

"You look like hell. What's going on?"

"Oh. It's just ... Dee."

Bewildered, Kara kept going. "What about Dee?"

He looked at her strangely, and paused to take a breath.

"She shot herself." His voice was so small, she could barely hear the words.

"My gods..." Her confession died in her throat as she took it in. " I don't understand."

"No," he agreed, looking down at the floor. "Neither do I. I've been trying to come up with a neat answer, but the truth is... I'll never know." His breathing quickened, and she could tell his control was starting to slip. "Cause it's too late now. It's too frakking late." He spit out the last words as he crumpled to the sofa, face in his hands. He was shaking, and the words began to pour out.

"We had a drink just before. She seemed so happy-- I don't know what I... I thought she was coping better than any of us." The tears were welling up again, spilling down his cheeks. "She helped me figure out what to say to the Quorum, she knew exactly what to say. She knew... oh gods," He began to sob in earnest now. "She knew exactly what she was going to do. She had already decided." His body began to shake.

"Oh gods," he repeated, his voice almost a wail. "Why couldn't I have stopped it?"

Kara felt the tears sting her own eyes, and she made a choice. All thoughts of unburdening her own conscience stopped dead in their tracks. Whatever she was, whatever it meant-- it didn't matter right now. All that mattered was Lee, and all she knew was that she had to fix him.

That's what the other Kara would have done. That's what she had to do. Moreover, she realized, that's what she _wanted_ to do. She, this thing of unknown origin and design, this copy, this counterfeit. She knew she had to fix him. She knew-- godsdamn it-- she knew that she _loved_ this man, perhaps even more than the other woman had. She wouldn't abandon him now.

Slowly, carefully, she walked over to him, and knelt in front of where he sat. So carefully, she laid her hands on his knees, trying to see his face.

"Lee, listen to me." She said, her voice getting stronger with every word. "There was nothing you could have done. This was her choice. She wanted to go out on her terms."

He looked up at her then, anger and despair twisting his features.

"I should have been better to her," he spat out. "I should have loved her more. If I had, if I could have, maybe this wouldn't have happened-- maybe"

"I know," she replied, daring to look up at him-- really look at him. "I know and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Their eyes locked and held-- anger and grief met steadfast and calm.

The anger washed into sorrow, and he could barely keep from gasping for air. "If I could have loved her more," his words were barely a whisper as he began his confession. "If I could have loved her more... even half as much ..." The last words were barely audible. "... as I love you..."

"I know" she whispered back. The tears flowed from both sets of eyes.

Slowly, she pulled his forehead to hers and rested it there, tears mingling together. They sat like that for gods knew how long, their breathing taking on a symbiotic quality all its own. As if it were a life support system keeping both of them alive. Kara swore she could almost hear her heart beating in time with his.

Running her fingers through his hair in a gentle, comforting motion, she began to wipe the tears from his face, moving across his cheeks, his jawline, his lips. His eyes opened then and instinctively looked to her mouth. It was only inches away from his.

As much as she wanted to kiss him-- and gods knew that she did-- she pulled back and looked at him. No easy fraks right now. This mattered too much.

"Come on," she said gently. "You need to get some sleep."

She helped him lie down on the sofa, finding a blanket in the process to cover him with. She turned to switch off the lamp on his desk when his hand reached out and grasped her fingers.

"Stay? Please?" he whispered anxiously.

She smiled. "Sure."

She sat on the floor by the end of the sofa, resting her shoulder against the arm. His hand was still clutching hers. With her other hand, she began to stroke his hair again, the movements steady and soft, until his eyes were closed and he began to sleep.

_No matter what else_, she thought,_ this is right_. _This is where I'm supposed to be. _Exhausted, she sighed and laid her head down next to his. The rest would keep until tomorrow. Tonight they both just needed to keep breathing. She watched the rise and fall of his chest, and soon found the same rhythm.

_In. Out. In. Out.  
_  
Hours later, as the Presidential aide came in to give the morning report, he found them still together that way--fingers intertwined, heads lying next to one another. Like two lost children, clinging to one another in the darkness of space.


End file.
